A Kiss To Say Goodbye
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: He only meant to check on Jamie because it was late, and a particularly cold night, and he noticed that Sandy's usual golden stream wasn't leading to Jamie's bedroom quite yet, which wasn't normal. He didn't expect to find what he did. .:. Voyeurism, pedofeels, first kisses, and masturbation. So yeah, this is definitely rated M and definitely Jack/Jamie. Now a twoshot!
1. Leaving

**A/N: My fingers slipped on the keyboard. A lot. Into voyeurism, pedofeels, and first kisses. **

…**Whoops.**

* * *

He only meant to check on Jamie because it was late, and a particularly cold night, and he noticed that Sandy's usual golden stream wasn't leading to Jamie's bedroom quite yet, which wasn't normal.

So he went to see if the boy was away at someone else's house, or up late watching a movie, or what-have-you.

He didn't expect to find what he did.

* * *

Jack Frost has seen and ignored a lot of sexual activity in his time. He's flown past many parked, foggy-windowed cars and windows with carelessly open curtains and people rolling in tents while the frost settles in the grass outside. He's breezed past plenty of moans and sighs and tumbling bodies, and merely shivered and pressed on as if he hadn't noticed a thing as he continued to icy the world around him.

But he couldn't very well ignore Jamie. The boy was about eleven now, slowly coming into his own with the very limited, general knowledge of where-babies-come-from and how puberty works, since it's closing in on him quickly. Jack knew this because Jamie told him about it, blush bright on his cheeks, and he confessed to Jack that growing up seemed gross and weird and frightening.

At the time, Jack merely patted Jamie on the back over the blanket around his shoulders and told him not to worry about it, that it will be fine; the changes will be so slow he will hardly notice them, and soon enough, he will feel mature and the pressure won't be as bad as he's making it out to be.

At the time, Jack merely said, "Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, all right, Jams?" and ruffled his hair, then flew out the window again, beckoning for Jamie to get dressed and join him for making a snowman. And they did. And it wasn't an issue any longer.

Tonight is different.

Because as jack hops over rooftops to Jamie's room and hovers in front of his window, the wind dropping his toes down onto Jamie's windowsill, Jack peers in and finds immediately that the issue wasn't resolved, and has evolved instead.

He can see Jamie's hand shifting beneath the sheets, clearly palming between his legs, his knuckles brushing up and making bumps in the covers as he works himself. His head is lying flat on his pillow, chin tilted upward, lips parted, and his eyes are closed serenely shut, his eyebrows angled upward in bliss. His free hand clenches the side of his mattress, fisting the fitted sheet, and his knees wobble and feet knock together beneath the covers, spreading wider as his bottom lip slides between his teeth and his hand moves faster.

Jack's mouth runs dry and he tries to look away, to tear his gaze from Jamie's bedroom and fly off, but he can't. He's mesmerized with sick fascination, guilt and something tight pooling in his lower abdomen. He swallows and blinks, face pressing closer to the window, his breath icing the glass, one palm flat beside his head.

Jamie's sounds are muffled by the windowpane, but Jack can read lips. He's practiced reading lips for years while peering into houses and trying to figure out if he ever had a family, and what it would be like living in one, the sorts of things they said and did with one another. And now he wishes he couldn't, because he can quite clearly read, _"Jack,"_ on Jamie's lips, whispered and lustful, he's sure, and he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to imagine Jamie's young, innocent voice saying his name in such an adult way. Because Jamie isn't very old; eleven isn't old enough to know what he wants, what he's implying; only that he wants it, only that, grouped with touching himself, it feels good. But it hold so much more meaning than that, more meaning than Jamie could understand at his age.

Jack still has a beating heart. Cold blood like icewater in his veins, a heart that beats far too slow in comparison to a human's, but circulation nonetheless. And it's acting up now, in ways running and flying have never made his heart race. His breathing grows short and he presses his legs together where he's crouching by the window, and he had to grab the frame to stabilize himself. Watching Jamie is dangerous. He should go. He should –

Jamie kicks down his covers, his eyes peeking open long enough to look down at himself and shimmy his pajama bottoms down enough to free his small erection, and pump himself with more vigor, legs splayed out. He brings up his free hand to push up his pajama shirt, pale, flat stomach exposed to the air to help him cool down. He continues to pump his shaft and thumb over the tip, and his head falls back and he succumbs to the pleasure again, eyes closing once more, and thank God he didn't see Jack at his window.

Meanwhile, the immortal teen's confliction is growing, just like the hardness in his trousers. He bites his own lip, sharp and cool in his mouth, and shuts his own eyes, trying to will himself to let go of the window and let the wind carry him far away, maybe to Seattle or something. Somewhere nice and calming and distracting and _distant. _

But he opens his eyes again when he hears a gasp, followed by a thud. He blinks and drops his lip from his teeth, glancing in.

Jamie's missing from his bed, his sheets tugged to the side opposite the one nearest the window. His brown tuft of hair slowly peeps from the other side, and after a moment, their eyes lock.

Shit, he's been caught. Shit, shit, shit…

"J-Jack?" comes Jamie's thin voice, and he stands shakily, blanket over his lower half, his pants pulled back up messily, and he's like a deer in the headlights, and Jack feels so, so bad that he's about to turn and leave when Jamie asks, "How long have you been watching?"

Jack inhales briskly and releases the breath steadily, pushing open the window and climbing in to sit on the window seat, his staff in hand. He crosses his legs and presses the back of the staff to his forehead, unable to look Jamie in the eye. "I'm so, _so_ sorry, kiddo… I noticed Sandman's sand wasn't at your house on time, so I came to check on you, see if you were at home or not, if you were okay or not, since that's… that's kind of my Guardian duty, I guess. B-but you… you were…" and he can't finish it, so he gives up and looks off to the side, at some of the boy's toys in the corner of the room.

Jamie brings up his blanket and covers his face with it. His shoulders shake with sobs and his ears and cheeks are on fire. "No, I'm sorry," he mumbles between sniffles, "I like you too much. I kept thinking about what it might feel like to kiss you, or… or have you hold me, or what… what you look like naked," and he says this so quietly that Jack has to glance up and lean in to hear it, the boy's voice muffled by his duvet cover. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to know. I was gonna keep it a secret. This is all so confusing, I don't know what to do… I just started reacting to the thoughts and…"

He let it die away after that, and slowly, he dropped the blanket from his face and sniffled a few times, eyes trained to the top of his mattress, the pattern on his blanket.

Jack stands up awkwardly and hops over to Jamie's side, taking the boy into his arms and pressing the boy's hot face to his cool hoodie over his chest, his heart beating still half as fast as the human child's, but much quicker than usual, leaving him a bit breathless.

"Shh, shh… it's all right, it's okay. It happens when you grow up. Some people who are close to you… you start liking them a bit differently."

"You should be angry with me. Or grossed out. Why aren't you angry and grossed out?" Jamie mutters, rubbing a fist into his eyes and wrapping his arms around Jack's torso.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong," Jack replies softly. "But I did. I watched you. It was wrong of me to watch you do that."

"I don't mind," Jamie whispers into Jack's clothes. "You're who I was thinking about, anyway. And if you aren't angry or grossed out, then it's okay."

"It's really not. I'm sorry, Jamie. I don't know if I can see you again."

Jamie backs up and peers up into Jack's face, his own red with leftover embarrassment and tears. "What? No! You can't leave! You're not angry, right? Then why does that mean you can never see me again?"

"Because I'll be tempted," Jack utters lowly. "And I can't do it, Jams. I'm not supposed to, for a lot of reasons."

"…Because you're a Guardian. And a lot older than me. And can't die," Jamie realizes glumly, hanging his head. He wraps his arms around himself and scowls. "It's not fair. I like you."

"I know. And I like you, too. But that's why it's dangerous," Frost tries to say as gently as possible, kneeling down on one leg to try and be somewhat eyelevel with the boy. He peers up into Jamie's warm brown eyes and forces the bare minimum of a smile to his frozen lips in reassurance. He lifts Jamie's chin with one curled index finger. "But I'll tell you what. If you promise you won't look for me, I'll give you a kiss right now."

Jamie's eyes go wide. "You mean it?"

"Yup. If we meet again by accident, that's fine, but you need to swear to me you won't try to see me on purpose. You won't call out my name and look for me at the pond. You'll go on with your life, and meet another boy – or girl, if you change your mind – and you'll like them instead. Promise me this, and I'll kiss you before I leave tonight," Jack offers.

Jamie's face falls. "But what if we never meet by accident, and I never see you again? And… what if I forget you because I stop seeing you? I don't want to stop believing in you," Jamie murmurs.

"Hey, it's okay. That won't happen if you don't let it happen, Jamie. And I just need you not to try so hard, and let things progress like normal, that's all. You'll see; it'll be as easy as making a snowball in your hands."

Jamie inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, it sounding a bit clogged in one side, but he nods his head. "Okay. I promise." He raises his hand and uses the other to cover his head. "I _swear_."

"'Atta boy," the winter sprite beams genuinely, and he picks Jamie up by the armpits and drops him to sit on the foot of his bed. Then he kneels before him and draws Jamie close, touching foreheads for a moment. "Close your eyes."

Jamie obeys, fingers on Jack's arms trembling with excitement, one hand dropping to press to his groin while he closes his legs together, knees knocking. He can feel Jack's cool breath on his lips, and then, suddenly, his mouth is being covered in pressure and soft coldness, like a frozen marshmallow, Jamie thinks, and he sighs into the kiss and feels Jack's lips move over his own, exact same texture as a human's but tuned down in temperature to below fifty, and it makes goosebumps rise on Jamie's skin.

Jack's hand slides between Jamie's legs and covers the hand Jamie has over his pajama bottoms, and he gasps into the kiss at the cool digits over his own. It's soothing, though, and wills his excitement away, calming his body down as that same hand slides up to press over his heart. Jack's other hand is against the back of Jamie's head, fingernails lightly carding through the silky brown locks and scratching lightly at the boy's scalp, Jack's tongue sliding into the boy's mouth.

Jamie opens his jaw and lets Jack in, smaller hands grasping for purchase on Jack's hoodie and hair at his nape, bringing him close and kissing him idly, unsure how to go about it, trying to follow Jack's lead.

Then, all too soon, Jack retreats, sucking a bit at Jamie's bottom lip before letting go entirely, standing up and taking a step back. The brunet whimpers at the loss, even though his body is back to normal and his heart is thudding mildly in his chest.

"Goodnight, Jamie. You have some dreams waiting for you. It's way past your bedtime."

Jamie laughs weakly at that and nods, turning and crawling back into his bed, tugging up his fallen covers and snuggling down. Jack is at the window, glancing back and watching him settle before he turns away again.

"Goodnight, Jack. And… goodbye," he adds sadly, and Jack sends him a regretful glance for a moment before nodding, mumbling his own goodbye, and departing, the window closing with the wind behind him.

For the rest of the night, Jamie dreams of winter landscapes and clouds, and running through them at top speeds, unaffected by the cold of the ice and the mist of the clouds, because in his dreams, he's a winter spirit, too.


	2. Returning

**A/N: For everyone who wanted more, but especially for SequinCannibal, who needed it most of all.**

* * *

He turns a corner and suddenly Jack is there, leaning against his staff, facing the other direction, one hand propped on his hip, an amused, toothy grin on his face as he watches a girl slip on ice and her boyfriend stabilize her and hold her close.

Then Jack hears a gasp, and turns around, and Jamie is there, and they gape at one another for a long, long moment.

Jack nods his head into the alleyway nearby. No one will see or bother them there. They can talk without Jamie looking strange, talking by himself.

Jamie nods numbly and Jack has the wind carry him into the alley, and Jamie follows suit, seemingly casual, and no one takes notice at all.

Internally, Jamie's heart is in his throat and his face is staining redder than what merely the cold has already done, and he brushes his cheekbone with a gloved knuckle as if he could wipe away the rogue from his cheeks.

Jack blows air out his mouth in a lengthy sigh, looking down. Jamie returns it with a drawn-out inhale, sharp and unsure, and lets it out slowly through his nose as they both turn to glance one another's way at the same time.

"I kept my promise, you know," Jamie blurts out first, his tone supple but demur. "I didn't look for you. I didn't shout out your name, although God knows how many fucking times I wanted to. I screamed it in my head instead, and took up trying to draw you from memory. I always liked to draw, as a kid; now I do it for a living. Graphic designer, head of marketing. Got a job right out of college."

He's babbling and he knows it. He never knew when to shut up. Jack always thought before he spoke, his comments witty, energetic, full of the right tone and meaning behind it. Jamie has always been the opposite.

The brunet glances away and rubs the back of his neck. "But I never forgot, never stopped believing. It was hard, sometimes; but I would think back to the night you kissed me, how real it felt, and I knew I couldn't have made that up. I'm not that imaginative. And you were right; if I didn't let growing up change me in the way I didn't want it to, then it didn't. I still watch cartoons and enjoy them. I still draw for fun, not just for my job, and make up children's books on the side, freelance. I'm twenty-eight, but… I'm still me, as I ever was."

"I can see that," Jack finally speaks, his voice a quiet murmur. Jamie glances up, staring. Jack can't seem to tear his gaze from Jamie's face, try as he might. He doesn't even drop it as Jamie repeatedly looks away. But now, now Jamie really looks at him, and Jack smiles and says, "You grew up well. You're a fine man, Jamie. A good man. Because you didn't lose your inner child, but you didn't remain so childish that it hindered you in life. Not many people can maintain a balance like that; I'm so proud of you."

Jamie sighs raggedly and smiles, his lips a bit crooked, and he sniffs, and not from the cold. He wipes at one eye with the heel of his glove and adverts his gaze once more. "Am I a still a temptation?" he half-jokes, half-asks sincerely. "Or are _you_ the temptation now? –And if it's the former, does that mean we still can't ever see each other again?"

Jack draws his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on the skin. He sighs, releasing it, and runs a hand through his spiky, silvery locks. He bounces his staff from hand to hand as its base remains in one spot between his bare feet. "I don't know, honestly. I didn't want to ever hold you back from finding someone human and alive to be your lover. I'm _immortal,_ Jamie. And physically, I'm seventeen. No one can see me but you and some children. I'm only around for the winter months. And now, after all this time… you can't possibly still feel the way you did about me."

He sounds so sad about it. He has never sounded so glum in anything he's ever said to Jamie, and it makes Jamie's heart ache.

Jamie shakes his head firmly. "That's where you're wrong. I've tried other relationships, Jack. I've been in puppy-love with a few of them. But I've merely settled for the rest, and in the end, after we've broken up for whatever reason, my thoughts always came back to you and how much I missed you and wanted to be with you instead. And if… if you don't mind being with me while I'm older than you, even if it's only for a few years and only during the winter, then I'll be content. Hell, I'll move to Canada or Alaska for year-round winter if it means spending more time with you before I age too much! I still love you, and if you'll have me, then I'll take what you're willing to give."

"Oh, Jamie…" Jack whispers, hanging his head and groaning into his hands, his staff leaning against one shoulder. He tosses it down and is swept up by the wind enough to bring him colliding into Jamie's body, chilly hands on either side of Jamie's warm face, lips on Jamie's own. When he pulls back enough to look Jamie in the eye, the brunet is smiling and content and so obviously in love, and it warms Jack's frozen heart. "I'm so sorry. I should have made a better compromise with you. All these years, I've been keeping tabs on you. Watching over you from a distance. I tried to still be your Guardian, but it was so hard not to interact with you. It was the hardest thing of my afterlife, to make you keep your promise."

Jamie's crying now and he doesn't even care. Jack pecks kisses and freezes the tears on Jamie's cheeks, brushing the ice crystals away when he's done. Jamie leans forward and holds Jack's face in return, kissing him passionately and tenderly, nearly choking up with a sob. He swallows down the lump in his throat and focuses on kissing Jack's cool face instead.

"I knew it was you. When those bullies in middle school suddenly got icicles and snow dropped on them from the roof of the building, I knew you were protecting me without letting me see. And when my first boyfriend's car skidded and bumped mine and we met when we traded information for the fender-bender, and started dating afterward, I knew you were trying to help push me in the right direction. But I wished all the while you would stop being such a martyr and just come to me. I wanted you more than the bullies to stop picking on me and to meet a boy to fall in like with."

He's rambling again, and now he is crying harder and he hates it, he feels like a whiny child, so small, and Jack, despite being shorter than him, feels all-encompassing as he brings his arms around Jamie and kisses his temple and lifts onto his toes to nuzzle into Jamie's neck. He is a soothing comfort and Jamie clings to him tightly.

"I don't just love you because you're magical or mythical or nostalgic or attractive or even because you're my friend. Jack, I love you because you have always made me the happiest, even when everything else was confusing and painful and stressing and awful, and I love you because I feel myself the most when I let go, and I only let go when I'm with you."

Jack blinks back tears and pulls out of the embrace enough to kiss Jamie with his heart and soul, making Jamie exhale cold, frosty air when they part. "I've never loved anyone like I love you, Jamie," Jack confesses quietly, surprised at himself with how true it is. He runs his fingers through Jamie's chocolate locks and brushes his thumb over Jamie's cheekbone. "I'm glad you spotted me today. I'm glad I let my guard down while I was here in Burgess today, enough for you to find me again. It's the happiest accident that's ever been."

"You sound so cheesy," Jamie breathlessly chuckles, his arms around Jack's shoulders, Jack's arms coming down to rest around the older man's waist. "But I agree with you. And I meant what I said: I don't care about age difference or seasons if you don't. I'll move somewhere wintry all the time, and for as long as you don't mind how I look, I want to me with you."

"I don't care if you're fifty, Jamie. I'll stay by your side when I'm not forced to some other part of the planet, doing my job. You don't have to move, though! It stays cold here long enough, and I can sneak to see you even during the summer. So don't be silly. We'll make it work, since staying apart failed." He closes the small gap between them and rests his head on Jamie's shoulder. "I apologize again. I didn't know I would wind up doing this to you. I knew it would hurt me, and I was prepared to live with it, but if even after _sixteen years_ without me around you still love me, still _want_ me and most amazing of all, still _believe_ in me, then I won't stop this."

"Good," Jamie states firmly, contentedly, and closes his eyes and presses Jack to him and inhales the windy, outdoorsy scent of Jack's hair and runs his hands down Jack's back, finally at peace.

That night, Jack sleeps with him in his bed, and Jamie has a dream where they are both human and grow old together, domestic and happy, and subconsciously, he tightens his hold around Jack's body in his sleep and thinks in the far recesses of his mind that maybe _some_ of that isn't as impossible as it used to seem.


End file.
